


Butterflies

by GSWritings, oldestcharm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fairies, Hallucinations, M/M, Summer Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:52:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7652812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GSWritings/pseuds/GSWritings, https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldestcharm/pseuds/oldestcharm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles would have been glad to leave Beacon Hills for a while after the Nogitsune incident but with their new teacher and a whole bunch of extra school work he's cursed to stay.<br/>Derek on the other hand is hoping to kind of sort his life out with Peter gone over the summer.</p>
<p>However, both seem to have forgotten they live in Beacon Hills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the Sterek Summer Spectacle 2016 as work from The Sunny Squad.
> 
> Thank you to the team, to the [Sterek Shelter](http://sterekshelter.tumblr.com) for organizing the event and all the people who anyhow participate.  
> A happy Sterek summer to all of you!

Stiles pulls a little harder at the rope he’d justs wrapped five times around a trunk in the middle of the woods and secures it into a proper knot. He flips it a few times, testing the knot he just made before the young man grins satisfied to himself. Rounding the trunk he literally hops onto the big orange hammock and sighs.

For a moment Stiles just lays there without doing anything. His eyes looking up to the sky, one arm and leg still hanging from the hammock as it swings back and forth and back again. Stiles feels the light breeze of fresh forest air on his skin as he watches how the mixture of green leaves and blue sky changes back and forth with him. It’s quiet and for once he is glad for it.

All the tension slowly leaves with every swing that is made. Yet the sigh he lets out isn’t entirely happy.

This is still not where he should be and would be if it wasn’t for his new teacher. How were monsters like him even allowed to live? And what was it with this subject that most of its teachers turned out to be monsters? Not that Stiles wouldn’t know worse things out there. A few weeks ago he’d just been the main actor of his very own psycho horror movie. But… _extra school work_! He could still hear the man drooling over the words, the pleasure their new horror of a history teacher had taken from ruining Stiles entire summer holidays for really no reason at all. After Harris death he’d thought this might be over – obviously Stiles was wrong.

The sound of a lightsaber rips him out of his thoughts and Stiles shifts in the hammock to take out his phone. It’s a message from Scott.

**_> How are you doing?_ **

To be fair Scott had texted him every day since the others had left for their vacation trip but on the other hand he always texts him every day – even when they see each other like all the time. While Stiles reads the first message of his best friend a picture comes in. Opening it he looks at the smiling faces of his friends in the most different kinds of beach wear, wet and sandy. It looks like they’re having a lot of fun.

There’s a small pang in his belly. Of course he is happy for his friends, it’s just… he’s supposed to be with them. And, god, after what happened with the Nogitsune a few weeks ago he feels more drained and paranoid than ever before. On the outside Stiles might has come to a somewhat matured behavior but truth is that inside he’s different. And this difference, this dark spot inside of him, is the only reason why he’d become more quiet over the last weeks.  He’d been looking forward to leave this vicious place for once, to be a normal teenager for once again.

There’s a message attached to the picture:

**_> We send you power for your work over there. Hope you’re doing fine._ **

He sighs and lets the phone sink down onto his stomach. They never talked about what had happened, not even once and Stiles had thought Scott would simply miss it. That he’d be oblivious to the fact something was wrong with Stiles exactly the way Scott missed most things. He is Stiles best friend, he loves him like a brother but it is a mere fact that Scott thinks in different ways than Stiles - and the latter did take advantage of it more than just once. To be honest he relied on it whenever Stiles wants to keep something to himself. But the way his brother in heart keeps sending messages asking if he is alright it seems that his friend did notice _something_ at last. It isn’t exactly a nice feeling. He doesn’t want to bother anyone. So after a while he picks up the phone and types in a message that hopefully will reassure Scott:

**_< Enjoying myself in the woods after I successfully sneaked out. Yeah! Summer break! This stuff is the most boring shit we ever had in classes. Who does even need to know that? And it is way too hot over here for any kind of brain usement._ **

Happy with the double meaning of his words he puts the phone back into his pockets and gets up again. There’s a small cooling box Stiles had left on the floor when he arrived and when he opens it several flavors of fruit popsicles look up at him sending cool air up to his face. Stiles picks one and holds it to his cheek with a heavy sigh of relieve. All the dreams of beaches and cold seawater are back again. It’s way too hot in Beacon Hills. The summer was perfect for a vacation trip.

Another heavy sigh escapes Stiles dropping the box back to the floor to free his popsicle from the wrapping and start licking. At least it’s refreshing. He rounds the hammock again and sits down onto it so he’s got a good view over the city while eating. It is very quiet. Here and there Stiles can see the air glimmering in strange swirls over a building but other than that actually there’s not much to see. Under the low and strangely hot afternoon sun the city seems as lazy as everyone else. Stiles wipes the sweat from his forehead and suddenly bites onto wood.

“Awesome” he murmurs making a face and puts the trash of his too quickly gone fruit popsicle into the cooling box.

Maybe he could go over to Derek again, Stiles muses. He’s the only one here after all. But the sourwolf isn’t exactly a party bee. Well, if it isn’t about killing and fighting that is. Last time Stiles had turned up uninvited Derek wasn’t what you’d call happy to see him.

His phone makes another lightsaber sound and at the same time something rustles in the bushes behind Stiles. He turns around to take a look but nothing is there. For a moment he examines his surroundings more closely, lookes between the leaves and the branches but there is still nothing. Finally he leans back again and takes out his phone. Could have been anything.

For a second the thought causes an uneasy feeling in his stomach at how literally that can be taken but he shakes it off opening Scott’s message.

**_> Dude, you sneaked out? Thought it’s your dad’s day off. How did you do that?_ **

This time he answers right away. It’s easier to show your genuine side than trying to fool a friend into the thought you’re alright.

**_< Said I was going to the library for the extra work and headed for the woods. It’s cooler up here, even if just a little. Can you imagine the freaking steam dried out? I thought I could cool myself a bit there but it’s completely gone!_ **

He puts the phone down and looks at the town again. The glimmering air, the bright evening sun burning low but not less hot down onto it. Nothing changed, really. He lets out another heavy sigh. No matter how hard he tries to pretend, this just sucks completely. He’s bored.

Right that moment there’s another rustle behind him and Stiles turns again but again he doesn’t see anything. It doesn’t ease the tension in his belly and Stiles keeps watching the area surrounding him a bit longer this time. There’s no sound. No bird or anything and the strange feeling in his gut grows stronger. There’s nothing strange to rustling in a forest, right? No sounds on the other hand _is_ strange and this isn’t a normal forest. This is the Beacon Hills preserve and most of the shit they had in town came exactly through here. Suddenly his idea to hide in the woods all alone doesn’t seem so great anymore. Yet there’s nothing. Nothing at all.

Finally he gets up from the hammock picks up a proper branch and moves over to the bushes. His phone makes another lightsaber sound but Stiles ignores it. Slowly approaching the first bush he raises the branch over his head. For a while the air seems to be even tenser and Stiles tries to prepare himself for what might come. Calm… and steady…. His grip around the branch gets a little bit tighter. One…. Two…

With a firm swing Stiles hits the bush – but nothing happens. No animal runs out of this one and not out of the other bushes either. He grabs it to shake, does the same to the other bushes but there’s just nothing happening and with each bush he tries the tension eases in relieve until he feels a little bit stupid. He was really getting paranoid.

With another sigh Stiles drops onto the hammock and picks up his phone to read the message Scott had left, branch leaning to the hammock at his side.

**_> Wow. I don’t remember this ever happened before. That’s heavy, man. Sucks we couldn’t convince your Dad to let you come with us. I never expected him to get so determined with this stuff all of a sudden. Something’s missing without you, man._ **

Scott is right. Not his dad nor Scott’s mom had ever been very strict with the both of them. With all the work they have to do for a living it seems to be just too much. Or maybe they don’t want to be strict because they think with one parent missing their children are already missing enough. Stiles has no idea. But the sudden change regarding this extra school work and the vacation trip had been quite surprising. Stiles has a feeling his father is somewhat scared after the last events. As if his dad wants to keep an eye on him to make sure he is safe at least for a while but he cannot put a finger on what causes this feeling. And he certainly never told Scott.

For now he just sends a short reply before he starts packing. Something in the bushes or not, he doesn’t feel comfortable around here anymore.

**_< Heading back home now. Reading you soon._ **

Stiles doesn’t have much to pack. The fruit popsicles are still in the cooling box, his school work, which he had to take along for fleshing out his alibi, in a bag beside it. So all Stiles has to do is getting the hammock loose and back into its bag.

Gripping the rope he’d wrapped around the tree just half an hour ago or something, Stiles watches the knot loosening until the rope’s end hangs loose. Five times wrapping it around the tree was enough to keep the hammock still in place even after opening up the knot and the teenager steps around the trunk to get a better grip of it.

That’s when he sees it and within a second his heart stops and his insides go ice cold.

For a moment he is unable to do anything but stare and watch the thing glowing on its unsteady path between the shadows of the trees.

A firefly.

His heart stumbles back into action, quicker with every passing second. It can’t be, can it? And fireflies aren’t unusual anyways right? How’s that supposed to be even possible? They’d locked the bastard up in that box Derek had brought with him, right? He cannot possibly…

But Stiles knows that he can.

His hands move quicker, trying to pack three times as quick as he did before, his eyes darting back to the small thing over and over again. There was something odd about its shape but it was too far away for Stiles to make out what exactly it was and he certainly didn’t want to be anyhow closer to it.

When the hammock finally collapses and the orange fabric hits the ground something moves between the trunks. Stiles stills. He swallows heavily, eyes searching for the figure. As he finds it it’s moving right behind a trunk and disappearing again, tremendously closer to the place Stiles is standing. And where it has disappeared there are more fireflies now.

“No…!”

It’s not more than a whisper and yet the one thing Stiles thinks, _feels,_ from deep within. Not wasting any time he grabs the bag with his school work and runs towards his car, leaving the rest behind on the clearing. Rustling follows him and every now and then when he looks back there’s another figure. The sight lasting only short enough that he cannot make out who exactly it is but that it is human. He doesn’t have to though. He knows what it is most likely to be and the knowledge just makes him quicker. He has to call Scott. He has to warn someone. He has to escape to do something.

And when Stiles finally reaches his jeep he races off down into town without a second thought.

***

He’d arrived at home nearly an hour ago, yet nothing had happened. The first thought had been to call Scott but honestly? None of them was here and it was a good thing. This way he doesn’t have to fear causing the death of one of his friends again. He’d thought about talking to his dad but he doesn’t want him to know. He doesn’t want to explain all the things they’d left out, he doesn’t want to worry him any further. And with all his friends gone his dad is probably the only target after all.

But what is he supposed to do? Stiles has got no idea. He feels helpless, restless and he’d been staring at his own reflection way too often now. He doesn’t even know how often he’d been listening inside his head, expecting that wicked voice to speak up any moment.

What when the freaking spirit gets a hold of him again? What when he walks out to kill people? So many had died last time, Stiles doesn’t think he can take anymore. Kira’s mom is still in town of course. But last time she’d used all her tails. Would she even be able to do anything?

The only person that came to his mind whenever he’d thought about it was Derek Hale. Derek is a werewolf. He is strong and he knows everything. And he is certainly able to kill Stiles if the latter won’t find another solution. Derek would help, would he? Maybe the born wolf even knows what they can do about it. Maybe Stiles is wrong and the fireflies are here for a different reason. Maybe _he_ isn’t out yet.

Stiles had thought this through hundreds of times, fragile hope taking turns with choking fear. He’d taken out his phone hundreds of times just to put it back into his pocket unused. But even if he will help Derek wouldn’t pick up the phone. He never had. Most likely he never will.

So in the end Stiles finds himself back in the Jeep again, racing off to the loft. He’s itchy and cannot help himself from watching his surroundings as if he’s expecting the goddamn thing to cross the street right in front of him. And now that he’s actually on his way to the older male Stiles thoughts trail to other places. What if he refuses after all? Or what if he says they should kill him right away like he used to do in similar situations? Would Derek actually kill him? The next moment Stiles wipes all of these thoughts away, finding himself getting ridiculous. He doesn’t even believe it himself. He’s panicking and he cannot afford this.

The traffic goes slow. Nobody seems to notice the urgency, how their lives might be in great danger. He would never catch up with the obliviousness of people towards all this freaking shit that had started happening in Beacon Hills since Scott had been bitten.

“Oh come on!” Stiles whines in frustration and gives his wheel a slight punch when the driver in front of him doesn’t recognize the green glow on the traffic lights right away. Everyone was lazy, tired of the heat. Nobody was as quick as he should be. Stiles doesn’t have to hit the horn though and when the car drives around the corner he speeds up and races towards the area where Derek lives.

When he finally arrives the drive feels far longer than it had been. In fact he made it in half of the usual time. The fear however is still there. Derek is strong but Derek wasn’t strong enough, too, the last time they had to encounter that spirit. And to be honest Stiles doesn’t want him to get hurt either. He’s also still scared about the wolf’s answer because even if all the stuff Stiles had been thinking before was just panic bullshit, talking to Derek would still mean to check out their last chances. And it still means it could turn out there aren’t any, that killing Stiles is the only solution. Even though there still haven’t been any voices, Stiles kept feeling like prey.

So when he enters the building and walks up the stairs the boy feels wary. Wary and scared and confused and helpless. As much as Stiles had hurried here he takes his time now. Deep in thoughts several questions flood his mind now.

The fireflies were the oni, right? The last time someone called them was Kira’s mother and with Kira gone to the vacation trip she’s the only Kitsune around who could have summoned them, right? He could have asked her why. He could have known everything at once. How the Nogitsune could escape, how they could stop him.

Maybe coming to Derek was a bad decision after all. And finally standing in front of the older ones door Stiles realizes there is only one reason he did come here to begin with: Kira’s mom had never been much for alternative solutions. She had been for killing even more than Derek. After all the arguments they’ve had and no matter how much they had distrusted each other Stiles just _knows_ that other than her Derek wouldn’t kill him right away. If he could Derek would still find a different way.

And Stiles doesn’t want to die. He wants to _live_!

His eyes watch the surface of the unusual door while he gulps heavily. So, Stiles realizes, he endangered Derek just for being selfish. For his best chances aren’t with him, not for keeping everyone safe. They lay with Mrs. Yukimura. He’s sure Derek already heard and smelled him yet Stiles thinks about leaving. Maybe it is not too late. He could turn around and do what, maybe, he should have done from the very beginning when it all had started for the very first time.

Stiles hesitates, his hand hovering over the metal door for the first time instead of just entering. But before he can actually turn around and seal his fate the thing wakes with a loud shriek when Derek opens it up himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Returning to Beacon Hills is starting to become a serious problem. By now it is more of a habit than an actual conscious choice Derek has made and no matter how terrible, life-threatening or violent things are, he seems to end up back where he started.

It isn’t fair to say that things haven’t changed. There have definitely been a couple of improvements, ones he’s worked hard for, because he’s tired of punishing himself for past deeds and perhaps he can admit at this point that there are certain things he isn’t solely responsible for.

And anyway, being responsible for horrendous things doesn’t actually mean he should live in a dump. There is no real connection between being cursed and inhabitable spaces. The loft is sort of a step up from the burned down remains of his family home and the train depot, but even so, every single time he walks through his living room he is reminded of his own claws deep inside Boyd’s twitching body. So yes, some things are fresher than others and he’s not quite ready to move on.

The thing is, Derek is trying now. He is actually trying to improve the quality of his life, which is why he spent a better part of his morning patching up the giant hole in his wall. He is in no way good at building or even fixing things as proven by many many pathetic attempts in the past, but he has managed to make the wall look presentable, which is sort of the point. The whole bricks and mortar thing has always been some sort of a clichéd metaphor, but he’ll take it if it means a sense of stability.

It also means lots of building dust practically infused in his skin and clothes, which is why he’s covered with hot spray of water when he hears the stupid proximity alarm go off. It’s getting ridiculous, not to mention it is utterly fucking useless, but it’s starting to grow on him and Derek just doesn’t have the heart to get rid of it. He turns of the stream for a moment to listen and when the only thing he hears is a familiar erratic heartbeat and the blasted beeping, he scrambles out of the shower, knocking over every single bottle of shampoo, conditioner and hair mask on the shelf.

“Shit,” he mutters, pulling on his dusty jeans in great haste, because whatever Stiles is debating over behind Derek’s door cannot be good. Especially since he’d had no trouble letting himself in last time. Last time when Derek had been busy doing some online shopping (because let’s be honest, living in Beacon Hills means torn and blood soaked clothing which certainly isn’t helping his good citizen image), which Stiles had thought was hilarious.

Derek rushes to the door, determined to get there before Stiles decides he isn’t at home. He pulls it open with a flourish and narrows his eyes at the overload of nervous and terrified chemo signals that hit his nose sharply. Stiles looks pale, restless and it’s nothing if not disconcerting. His lips part in what Derek assumes is surprise and after a few moments of internal debate, something seems to settle in his expression and he pushes past Derek, fingers yanking at his hair in frustration.

“What’s wrong?” Derek demands, pulling the heavy door closed behind him. He turns towards the room only to see Stiles pacing back and forth in a jittery manner. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Stiles pauses and opens his mouth, but no words come out. He frowns at Derek as though he is at fault and Derek folds his arms defensively, frowning right back at him. He can almost feel Stiles’ thoughts buzz around on a faster pace than his mouth can catch up with. “Stiles?” he prods tentatively and that seems to snap him out of whatever circular train of thought he’d been stuck with.

“Fire- oh, will you turn off this fucking thing?” Stiles snaps as the beeping cuts right into his words and crosses the floor with an expression of pure annoyance. He turns off Derek’s proximity alarm with more strength than strictly necessary and jerks his head back towards Derek. “There were fireflies in the woods. I think- fuck, Derek, it is happening all over again.”

Derek searches his memory of what is supposedly happening again and while it takes him longer to catch up, it hits him quite like an avalanche. Stiles is talking about the Nogitsune. Stiles thinks he’s going to get possessed any second. Stiles thinks-

“Isaac trapped it,” he says, carefully, not wanting to dismiss Stiles’ concerns all the while trying to reassure him. Derek’s never been good at comforting anyone. He’s rather like his fancy new brick wall when it comes to anything remotely emotional and really, he wasn’t even present. It is a good thing he’s heard the entire story far too many times from nearly everyone including Scott, Kira, Isaac himself and even Deaton for some peculiar reason. Derek wishes he was as forthcoming with information at times when he actually needs it. “It’s in a box made of Nemeton wood. It is powerful enough to keep it there.”

Derek’s fingers twitch on his side, itching to reach out, but he keeps them to himself for once. He needs to let Stiles figure this out. And he is figuring it out, brows drawn together, deep in thought. “I know.” Stiles offers, looking unsure despite himself. “I _know_.” He repeats, scowling at the floor as though he needs to assure himself. “It’s just… I keep thinking, what if, y’know? It makes no sense.”

“It makes plenty of sense,” Derek says, because it does. He knows what it is like to overthink. He thinks about Kate, Peter and Deucalion all the time and just because there’s no reason to think any of them would be back and conspiring, doesn’t mean Derek stops wondering about it. “We could go and take a look at those fireflies,” he offers, stepping closer to Stiles. “Just to make sure.”

Stiles’ eyes snap back to Derek’s and for a brief moment there’s a strange look in his eyes that Derek has trouble identifying. He thinks it might be gratitude, but there is no smell for gratitude and whereas Derek is excellent at using his wolf senses, he is utterly shit at using his identifying social cues.

“I... Yeah, I’d like that, thanks.” Stiles says, tugging fixedly at the sleeve of his red flannel shirt. Derek nods sharply, though Stiles is once again looking at anything but him. He wonders if he’s managed to calm him at all. Sure, he isn’t pacing around anymore or doesn’t seem particularly irritable, but the quiet uncertainty is far more unsettling. Stiles is a constant stream of words, distracted swinging and flailing. It is strange to see him so still. It reminds him heavily of what it was like when he really had been possessed, because the Nogitsune never made any unnecessary movements. It scares him enough to think _what if_ just for a moment, but Derek knows better. It had been so obvious. He doesn’t think he could be fooled.

“Right,” Derek decides, grabbing a white t-shirt from where he’d been doing the laundry and pulling it on, because while he admits he has a tendency to not wear a decent amount of clothes in certain situations, he actually doesn’t want to be caught say by the sheriff trotting around the woods with half-naked. “Let’s go.”

Stiles blinks up at him as though he hadn’t been expecting him to drop everything and do so the very moment he thinks there’s an issue, but the severity of the issue is more than enough to get him out of his loft. They make it downstairs without any comments and it’s just _not right_ at all, but when Derek opens the passenger door of the Jeep and climbs inside Stiles’ eyebrows shoot up. When he is settles in the driver’s seat he casts a half-amused look towards Derek and starts the engine. “You’re less of a control freak these days.” He says and Derek merely glares at him.

Stiles drives them to the edge of the forest where they spend a good while trying to find the place Stiles had apparently spent his whole morning. He’s started up the nervous chatter again and strangely it helps make Derek feel more at ease. He listens to the recount of events with an occasional complaint about the heat, nods along and agrees during the appropriate pauses. And while he can still smell the thick scent of distress coming off of Stiles, he seems just a tiny bit more composed.

“Why’s it so hot? It has no business being this hot when we’re in the middle of a life threatening mission. It should be freezing or there could be like… a thunderstorm.” Stiles says and not for the first time Derek thinks he is strangely good at deflecting his feelings. That train of thought gets a little sidetracked when Stiles, in line with his rant, yanks off the red flannel and bundles it up into a ball of fabric. The newly revealed bright blue t-shirt sticks to his skin and while wet clothing may be uncomfortable, it looks quite nice. At any rate it must be nicer than Derek’s shower damp hair that has been dripping into the collar of his shirt for the entire time.

The hammock Stiles had spent his afternoon lounging on is still there, but when they near it Derek sees flames coming from it. Stiles seems to take no notice of them and simply makes his way over as Derek stays put a couple of feet over. “What are you doing?” he snaps, blinking electric blue eyes at him. “Get away from the flames, idiot!”

At this Stiles turns his back to the flaming hammock entirely, frowning at Derek. “You know, you could ask nicely for on- wait, what flames?” he asks, dropping his hand straight into them as though nothing’s there. Derek simply stares before rushing forward and yanking him out of the way to grope at the hammock in confusion.

“It’s not here, how is it not here? I can see it-“

“I think we should go.” Stiles says in a small voice, long fingers wrapping around Derek’s wrist to tug him back towards the car. He looks a bit pale and is gaping at something behind Derek. “Let’s go now.”

The words are more insistent and Derek’s too busy thinking to resist. After some stumbling through the woods, he finds himself back in the Jeep, gazing at Stiles’ white knuckles gripping the steering wheel. “If we’re seeing things, it’s something else.” Derek offers and sees Stiles’ fingers twitch involuntarily. He thinks he remembers a couple of issues with hallucinations in the preserve from when he was younger. “Something… oh.”

“What? Something what? Don’t stop talking, why would you stop _now_ , you inconsiderate asshole?” Stiles whines and the panicky tone of his voice somehow clears it for Derek.

“We need to go through Peter’s files.” He says, ignoring the insults and looking at Stiles expectantly.

They stare at one another for a moment until Stiles throws up his hands and offers a weak smile. “Yeah, sure, that’s a grand idea. Piss off the psychotic werewolf. You know me, I’m all about that.”

“Just focus on the road, not me.”


	3. Chapter 3

His heart is still a little bit fast as Stiles drives them back to the loft. Since the moment he’d entered it Stiles has calmed a little bit but the restlessness never really seems to stop. He wants to _know_. Whatever Derek has on his mind it could be both, the ultimate solution or the ultimate disaster. He knows better than to pester the wolf though. His best chance to get Derek talking is to reach the loft and see what he thinks to find in Peter’s files. So Stiles does. His foot just a little bit too locked onto the pedal, his fingers tight around the wheel in one moment and soon drumming onto it restlessly.

All he can think of is the Nogitsune. If not he what else could it be? Is it so unlikely that the Nogitsune would cause hallucinations? A fact that keeps bothering Stiles is how they’d been kept custody inside an illusion what is pretty close to a god damn hallucination. But Derek knows that so what is it that makes the older one doubt the Nogitsune’s return so strictly? It couldn’t be only about a damn wooden werewolfcraft box. After watching people die until finally sacrificing himself and being possessed by an evil spirit Stiles definitely understands that this damn tree is vicious and dangerous and creepily powerful but the Nogitsune was freed once and as far as his experiences reach there is nothing that some psychotic, power obsessed bastard shifter or whatever couldn’t do to lead things straight down to hell.

But Derek is _so_ certain.

The simple fact that Derek doubts it kind of reassures Stiles and terrifies him at the same time. The born werewolf had been certain of many things and most of them turned out to be the entrance for every psychotic psychopath that was around because he was just that kind of lucky bastard.

“So” Stiles finally exhales a bit nervous when he can’t resist anymore. “What is it that you think to find in Peter’s files?” His eyes dart from the road to Derek for like the hundredth time. Now the other one isn’t staring onto the road anymore, brows knitted thoughtfully. Instead Stiles can see those intimidating green eyes lock right onto him, one of the brows rising with a short, pointed movement.

“Come on. It’s not like I am possessed or anything, right?”

But the joke is lame and Stiles feels it boomerang back to him already. Because he _could_ be and just the thought alone is enough to freak him out; if only secretly in his mind. So for a moment Stiles is quiet, gulping down the nervous thing that tries to move into his throat.

“Look. Derek. Just tell me something, okay? For I am actually freaking out over here. Your assumption that hallucinations mean it isn’t the Nogitsune? I don’t get it. I’ve been ankle deep in the snow of a Japanese garden, sword in hand, when I realized I was in the middle of an illusion. What about that thing between you and Chris Argent? To me hallucinations fit in perfectly. So if you have any real reason, like a good and logical one that could actually be true, let me know.”

It’s when he finally stops talking that Stiles hears the soft sigh Derek makes and for a second he doesn’t believe the latter will answer. But when he’s just about to burst out into another round of babbling Derek starts to talk.

“It reminds me of something Peter had told me long ago. Something the hallucinations are fitting in perfectly but I need to look up the details first.”

That’s not very much of an explanation but at least it sounds a little bit more promising to Stiles’ nervous heartbeat. Except for this is Peter’s laptop and everything concerning Peter could be the entrance to fucking hell.

“How do we know it is real? I mean it’s Pe-“

“And it weren’t fireflies.”

“ _What_?”

“It weren’t fireflies.”

Stiles just stares over to Derek, eyes wide, mouth open. He almost forgets to keep track of the street but only almost.

“Whatever you saw maybe just was another hallucination or you simply mistook them for what you were afraid of. The things at the hammock were small, glowing butterflies. Is that specific enough to be remembered for you?”

First Stiles doesn’t answer. He keeps looking at Derek until his gaze returns onto the street but still the teenager doesn’t say anything. No fireflies means any Oni. No Oni means it could actually be something completely different. He exhales slowly, blinking slightly. He’d never heard of glowing butterflies before.

“Yeah. I guess… Yeah.”

It could still be a whole new level of crap, Stiles knows it. He just _knows_. Yet this simple fact spreads hope inside his chest. More hope than Stiles would ever want to give in to and yet it’s there. For the first time since Stiles fled the forest his muscles actually start to relax.

It might be something different. Something entirely different.

***

It didn’t took Derek long to find Peter’s laptop after they arrived at the loft. Derek had left for Peter’s room and returned shortly afterwards with the laptop in his hands. What takes unfortunately long, though, is to get the thing started. Because of course it requires a fucking password.

It wouldn’t be much for Danny with his genuine hacking skills. But Stiles isn’t Danny and Derek certainly isn’t either. Like most people the real Danny is gone for a vacation trip so the only thing they can do is try and error everything that comes to their mind. Apparently they aren’t very successful.

“But there has to be someone at last, right?” Stiles says pacing up and down in front of Derek’s desk just to keep pausing now and then whenever he makes an assumption.

“No one I would ever have met or heard a name of.”

Stiles goes on without giving any sign that he’d heard Derek’s words: “I mean everyone has someone he likes. He’s a complete psychopath and even worse in social things than you but everyone likes somebody.”

Green eyes look up at him with a warning glare but Stiles ignores it and goes on.

“I mean maybe it is some psychotic serial killer? Like… a female Deucalion or something? … Or did someone die eventually? Maybe he killed her. Or him. Well I think I don’t want to know anything about his sex life actually.”

Again Stiles walks over to the other corner of the room. As usual his hands are flailing to underline every of his jumpy thoughts whenever something comes to his mind just to still as soon as he goes back to pacing with that thoughtful expression of his. Light green eyes follow him sometimes questioning, sometimes nerved, and sometimes thinking before they stare at the screen again.

“Maybe it isn’t a person but something else and we were on the wrong line the whole time” Stiles starts again. “Anything he likes. The password wouldn’t be too pathetic since he was totally rolling his eyes at how Scott chose Allison as his Username and his password.”

“He had her name as password for his laptop?”

Stiles looks down at Derek’s raised brows and stops for a second.

“Hey, it wasn’t me okay? I would have told him the password was stupid.”

Derek looks back down onto the Screen almost rolling his eyes. It’s then that Stiles says out loud what he was afraid of the whole time.

“What if he chose some super complicated badass password to secure his super evil plans of destruction? How would we ever unlock the damn computer? I mean even if we manage to do that, you have no idea what the file is named or if it still exists or if it is locked with another code or something. – Hey, what are you doing?”

Stiles turns around to the sound of typing just in time to see the screen unlock.

“Wow, wait. How did you do that? Did you know the password?”

“No. Stiles. I didn’t know the password. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been staring onto that screen for almost an hour.”

The tone of Derek’s voice is clipped and nerved yet the younger one sees the triumph in the older male’s eyes. The boy’s lips stop open for a moment and then close to a small pout of defeat. He’s used to that face in physical things but psychological is absolutely new.

“Well. Fine. So what was it?”

Derek’s eyes go back to the screen and he starts to click his way into the first folder.

“Peter was always about power” the wolf answers. “I am the alpha.”

An exaggerated sigh escapes Stiles and he can’t resist rolling his eyes at that.

“Yeah. What else. Of course you would get _that_.”

There’s another warning glare of Derek that Stiles chooses to ignore to lean down over Derek’s shoulder.

“No, click here” Stiles interferes. “This is the search window. It will be a lot quicker as long as you can come up with any ideas for file names.”

Now that the computer is unlocked all he has in his mind is what they might find in the file. Nervousness crawls back into his body, making his heart speed up just a little bit. If Derek’s right this file might save his life. Maybe Stiles doesn’t have to die. Maybe it isn’t the Nogitsune at all.

Maybe.


	4. Chapter 4

“Wait, what’s this?” Derek demands when the screen goes black for a moment.

“It’s an update.” Stiles says, followed by a small groan and then he’s tipping his head back, as though he has all the time in the world. He even closes his eyes and settles in comfortably, the fucker.

“Can’t you just… get rid of it?” Derek asks, folding his arms and scowling at Stiles, because this isn’t how this is supposed to go. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go at all. In fact, they’re supposed to find out what exactly they’re dealing with and how to kill it, go back to the preserve and then, hopefully, succeed in doing so. Dealing with Peter’s long postponed updates isn’t exactly what he had in mind.

“It’s an automatic update, Derek. No, I can’t.” Stiles says, looking far too amused for Derek’s liking. He decides staring at the screen is better. At least the small circulating icon isn’t as nauseating as Stiles’ smug face. Or that’s what he’s trying to tell himself, because there’s something very appealing about Stiles’ mocking approach to everything, including Derek. That, of course, isn’t as appealing, but these days he’s trying to be more zen in vague hopes of improving his life.

“Derek, hey Derek,” the words interrupt his thoughts, but he snaps to attention after a sharp elbow to his side.

“That’s not necessary,” he complains, but Stiles merely waves his hand dismissively and does something far too complicated on the computer for Derek to understand what exactly he is up to. It involves a lot of clicking and typing, though and Derek quite misses the good old days where everyone didn’t have to be computer savvy and could just visit the library once a year. Stiles, however, isn’t from the _middle ages_ as he likes to remind Derek every time he sees him, which is disturbingly often these days. “It’s not labelled the Bestiary,” Derek notes when he sees Stiles type those words into the search bar.

“No?” Stiles looks at him, brows furrowed in a way that makes him look a little like a stern librarian. Derek bites back a comment on that front.

“I think he named it ‘Hale Junk’ if memory serves me right.” Derek offers with a shrug, though he really wishes he’d never even seen the strange name… or had anything to do with the document in the first place, because the last time had been Jackson with wings and if that wasn’t disturbing, he didn’t know what was.

“Did he really?” says Stiles, lips twitching upwards slightly and Derek thinks he might be hurting himself by trying to hide his amusement this time. It’s a cruel twist of his lips and Derek isn’t exactly surprised seeing this side of him, but he knows his heart is in the right place most of the time, which is why he thinks he can tolerate the uncertain Peter issue with Stiles. He never outright tells him he should cut his ties with him and it’s odd how Stiles out of all people seems to understand Derek’s dilemma with Peter. Despite everything, Peter’s still family. Stiles doesn’t reproach him, so Derek allows himself a tiny smirk.

“You’re both assholes,” Stiles concedes, and Derek hums in agreement, mostly because  no matter how much he’d love to object in polite company, it’s true, but he doesn’t exactly wish to point out the hypocrisy in Stiles’ statement. He focuses on the long fingers sliding across the keyboard instead and a moment later Stiles seems to have found the correct file. It is around three hundred pages long, but Stiles simply inserts a couple of keywords into the search bar and finds exactly what Derek had in mind. Derek tries not to show how impressed he is, but going by the look Stiles gives him, he’s not being very subtle.

“Okay, butterflies, you say?” he says and turns to focus on the screen as though it is the most fascinating thing he’s seen in his life. While Derek finds the curiosity sort of enthralling, he curses himself for being far too distracted by the narrowed eyes to be bothered by the text itself. “ _Dude_ , are you for real? You think fairies are the cause of this? _Fairies_?”

“Fairies are a reasonably acceptable answer to this, Stiles. You’re only doubtful, because you’ve been raised outside the supernatural world.” Derek says, scoffing slightly and Stiles turns to stare at him intensely.

“Are unicorns real too?”

Derek frowns, thinking, “No, I don’t think so.”

Stiles snorts and goes back to staring at the screen, which gives Derek time to reflect on what exactly he’d said that was so amusing to him. In the end he can only guess it had been a rhetorical question.

“You were right,” Stiles says after a moment and Derek wishes he could record those words just to play them back to him every time he’s being an annoying little shit. “It is fairies.” He sounds as though he cannot quite believe his own words, but it isn’t exactly revolutionary for Derek himself.

“Well? How d’you kill them?” he asks and Stiles quirks a brow at him.

“Why is your first thought always ‘kill’ or ‘maim’?” he asks, folding his arms in a defensive stance and Derek’s not sure what exactly is wrong with getting rid of the newest threat on the horizon.

“It’s not as though anyone showing up in this town would give us a comforting hug.” Derek says, laughing despite himself. Stiles’ mouth falls open a little before he seems to collect himself and manages a stern expression. “As admirable as he is, I’m not Scott, Stiles.”

“You think he’s admirable?” Stiles asks, scooting closer in his chair and Derek is certainly not happy with these proceedings.

“Everyone does,” Derek grumbles. It feels as though he is being interrogated, when really Derek is almost sure that Stiles has figured that out already. He can be alarmingly perceptive when he wants to. And when Stiles doesn’t answer his question and instead continues to stare at him, Derek simply, scoots closer and reads the screen over his shoulder in the most obnoxious manner he can pull off.

Turns out the fairies -- and even Derek feels weird thinking it -- are fairly easy to get rid of. One simply needs to promise them honey and whisky and then squash them when they’re gathered round the offerings. In a strange turn of events Derek actually happens to have some of each, which gives Stiles plenty of grounds to mock him, but he takes it all in stride- well, alright, he threatens physical harm, but no one’s perfect.

Either way they find themselves back at the hammock in the matter of minutes with Derek brandishing a bottle of whisky before him like a sword and Stiles holding the pot of honey as far from himself as humanly possible.

Derek would like to think he’s ready for the hallucinations this time, but he realizes only seconds later how wrong he is.

There’s smoke and there’s Laura. Laura, who is so very composed with her red eyes gleaming at Derek in an alarming manner. Derek stumbles slightly, eyes widening and feels long fingers wrap around his wrist in a comforting manner as Laura approaches, teeth bared.

“It’s all your fault,” she says in a pleasant tone and it chills Derek to the bones. Without thinking he steps closer to Stiles, the faint prickle of claws scraping softly at his skin. Despite the contact, Laura’s still there, staring at him accusingly. “You lied to me. You got me _killed_ , Derek, you realize that, don’t you? You saw a pretty face and decided to swap that with your own family. I hope you suffer. It’s not as though you don't deserve it, Derek.” Her voice breaks on his name and it makes it seem far too real for his liking. He grips at Stiles’ hand with wide eyes. Hard enough to bruise but not too tight to break bones. Surprisingly, Stiles grips back with all his strength and Derek turns to look at him.

Stiles is staring at Laura, but Derek figures he’s not really seeing _her_. After all, it would make little sense. Instead he is muttering under his breath, a continuous string of ‘oh god, please not you, I’m so sorry; you weren’t supposed to die in my place, go away, I know you’re not real,’and Derek thinks he knows what he is seeing. He can’t quite help it. He steps in front of him, splaying his arm across Stiles’ chest in a vain attempt to spare him from the cruel visions. The protectiveness he displays surprises himself, but he doesn’t draw away, instead he stands firmly in front of him, ready to push him further away from danger as always.

A moment later, the person standing in front of him is not his dead sister, but his also dead ex girlfriend. Fantastic. Derek freezes, not quite knowing what to do with himself. He feels a soft hand on the small of his back that relaxes him just a tiny bit, but when the woman in front of him yanks the bottle out of his hand, he stumbles back a little, nearly dripping over his own feet.

He’s so fucked.


	5. Chapter 5

“Derek” Stiles says carefully. “Derek it’s not real. Whatever you see, don’t pay attention.”

He still feels weak and queasy from the hallucination Derek had just cut off of him in a surprisingly protective manner and his voice doesn’t sound as convinced as it should. He can see Derek tense up further, backing up, fighting an inner battle Stiles can only imagine. What he doesn’t want to. He _knows_ inner demons and he knows Derek has quite a few to share. Swallowing and tracing his own lips with his tongue nervously the boy tries to steady himself to try again.

“Derek” he says more persistently now. “Hey Derek. Look at me.”

“He can’t hear you, Stiles.”

In the middle of reaching out to Derek the teenager stops. Something inside of him freezes but he doesn’t flinch. Instead Stiles swallows, reminding himself over and over again, that this is not real. This is just a hallucination and he has to get Derek out of his.

“How do you know that?” the ragged voice asks again in another purr. “I’ve always been in your head, Stiles. I am part of you. You know that.”

His hands shake slightly as Stiles finally grips Derek’s cheek to try and turn his head around but Derek is stronger.

“You can’t save him. You’re not made for this, right? We both know what you are made for.”

“Derek? Come on Derek. Get a hang of yourself. This is _not_ real!”

“Haaa… It won’t get unreal if you just scream it. Screaming didn’t help you the last time. And truth is you loved it. You loved the power, the control.”

Stiles swallows again pressing his eyes shut for a moment to try and kick it all out of his head. But just as last time the voice doesn’t stop.

“And you want it back.”

“ _Derek_!”

Stiles finally snaps when those words hit something in him harder than they should. The memory, the guilt stabs him right into his belly. He doesn’t realize how desperate he sounds suddenly, not how the fingers of his left hand claw into Derek’s wet shirt. Funnily this actually makes Derek look over to him. Dazed at first, then more clear the more his eyes return to the normal light green.

“Stiles?” he asks but the younger one can barely make out the difference between his voice and the Nogitsune’s.

“Let me in Stiles… You know you need me” the raspy voice purrs. He doesn’t answer anyone. He keeps still, stiff, eyes pressed shut again.

“When have you ever saved someone? Except for that one time in Eichen House when you let me in?”

He trembles. He can feel it. Another “Stiles”, more persistent now.

“All the other times you never really saved them. You just got them into more trouble afterwards.”

“Don’t give in. Don’t give in” Stiles suddenly starts to whisper to himself. “This is not real. It is not real.”

“No it’s not real” a firm voice answers and somehow that’s strangely reassuring. “Look at me, Stiles.”

But he doesn’t want to open his eyes. He knows _he’s_ there. He doesn’t want to see him.

“Stiles!”

A slight shake and the teenager swallows again. He needs to open his eyes, he knows this. It is just a hallucination. It isn’t real.

“Not real… This is not real…” he repeats again and slowly, very slowly he actually opens his eyes and sees Derek right in front of him. Worried light green eyes are locked onto him but there’s something else. There’s sorrow and loss and pain, more than usual. The older one’s fighting, too. Stiles doesn’t know what, if still the same thing as before or something knew but Derek is fighting against a hallucination just like he is. Stiles cannot let himself get drawn too much into it. He needs to get a hang of himself.

“You alright?” Derek asks. The tone of his voice is a little bit stiff but the younger one doesn’t mind.

“Yeah” he stumbles. “I’m…“ A deep breath. “I am good.”

Slowly Stiles lets go of Derek who doesn’t seem too convinced but he doesn’t stop the teenager.

“It’s just –“ Stiles starts to explain and raises his hand weakly in his usual flailing manner.

“No you’re not.”

This voice actually makes him turn around, eyes wide and hope spreads.

“Scott?” he asks. “What are you doing here? How do you know?”

“How do I know? Because you’re always in trouble. You’re just that kind of idiot who gets you and all the people around you into trouble all the time. I really tried, Stiles, but honestly? I am so sick of you.”

The words sting and Stiles swallows, realizing this is just another hallucination.

“Scott?” Derek asks, trying to make out what Stiles is seeing.

“All the time you want to be oh so clever. But what have you ever got done, huh? The one time you could have actually helped me instead you just got the love of my life killed. You _killed_ her! We could still have gotten happy, you know, if it wasn’t for my best friend who just _killed_ her!”

“Be quiet” Stiles says in a low voice and Derek, who, as he only just now happens to realize, was backing up against him, looks at him again.

“What?”

Stiles doesn’t answer. Scott’s still talking about how he ruined his life, how Stiles was at fault for all the things that turned out wrong since _he_ was the one who dragged Scott into the woods that night. He’s accompanied by Lydia, now and Allison and all Stiles is capable of doing is pressing his eyes shut and raising his hands onto his ears.

“Stiles… let me in Stiles…” the voice says again. In the background Derek is saying something that he cannot understand and not bother to care for right now. He feels arms wrap around him, dragging him closer to a broad, strong body and it is comforting, yet not strong enough. ‘It is not real’, he tries to remember himself with the new strength, but he cannot concentrate.

“Let me in…”

“I should have killed you when Peter demanded from me to get rid of my pack” Scott says right when Lydia makes pitch clear that he would never ever be good enough for her.

“Shut up” Stiles repeats but no one stops.

“Stiles, let me in… it will all stop when you let me in.”

“ _All of you! Shut up!_ ” he screams, hands pressed hardly onto his ears. Derek’s arms hold him closer but he can barely recognize it. He isn’t even sure of what’s real or not, what are his own thoughts and what their accusations anymore. Everything mixes up to a muss of voices, loud and angry until his parents finally kick in, too, making him wince in pain.

“I would have loved to live, Stiles. If it wasn’t for you” his mother says and Derek apologizes but Stiles doesn’t understand why. He cannot even think about it. He’s stuck to his mother’s words and winces one more time. Derek sounds ragged. He cannot help him. He cannot even think.

“ _Stooop!_ ”

His voice cuts through the voices, not strong enough to end them.

“LET ME IIIIN!” the Nogitsune screams back instead and Stiles jumps. He screams again. Louder. Finally loosening his hands from his own ears and hitting at them, struggling wildly with all affords he can bring up to end this even so he knows exactly it won’t help.

“STOP! STOP IT! I AM SORRY! I AM SO SORRY! I NEVER WANTED ANY OF THIS JUST STOP! PLEASE JUST MAKE IT STOP! STOP! MAKE IT STOOOOP!”

To his surprise the voices really stop and only one remains.

“I won’t kill you, Stiles…”

It’s Derek and he sounds so wrecked and the words make so little sense that the younger one instinctively opens his eyes. They’re both on the floor now, however they ended up there, Derek holding him tight to his chest while he is leaning to a tree.

And he is crying. 

The sight is so shocking Stiles doesn’t know what to say. He is so confused. He doesn’t understand. Is that even real?

“I…” Derek swallows slightly. “I won’t… do something like this again.”

It’s too much. It needs time for Stiles to start thinking again. He’s still so miserable, so lost, so guilty. But then again something is bothering him at the back of his mind, like a memory demanding attention. And then it snaps in, together with a burst of guilt.

This isn’t the first time for Derek to hold a person in his arms on the roots of a tree that’s begging for an end. Not if anything of what Peter had told him and Cora was true. He feels sick and nauseous when Stiles swallows heavily. He doesn’t know where the voices have gone to, he doesn’t ask.

“You don’t have to” he whispers instead, sounding just as wrecked as Derek did. And that’s what they are, he suddenly realizes. Two souls wrecked beyond repair, fed up with more guilt than anyone could ever handle. It feels like he can see right through Derek’s actions down to the wrecked thing he is, what is pretty much like himself.

Stiles doesn’t even think about it, when he leans in until his forehead softly touches Derek’s and wipes away the tear that’s running down the other’s face. It just feels like the most natural thing to do because right now there isn’t any barrier anymore. Every piece of wall they had built up is shattered to pieces of guilt and pain. He’d never felt closer to anyone before. And when Derek reduces the small distance even more, when Stiles feels the older one’s lips softly stroke over his own he doesn’t fight it.

Returning the kiss he gives in and wraps his arm around the wolf’s neck. God Derek’s so tender, more than Stiles would ever have expected but in this moment he isn’t really capable of wondering anymore. He just takes it, all of it, and gives it back, pulling Derek closer. Something cold and wet hits his arm but Stiles doesn’t mind. He feels strong arms holding him closer, hears the sound of more and more drops filling up the air and feels safer than any time before.

Something breaks in him, a small, crumpled piece of withstand he didn’t even knew was left. But when the rain mixes up with their tears and Derek holds him close it’s all washed away with the cold drops and the fairies and the tension that felt like an actual thread just a moment ago.

And in that moment he gives Derek everything he has.


	6. Chapter 6

Derek’s not sure what on Earth made him do it. It’s like this uncontrollable urge, a string that cannot be snapped that pulls him towards Stiles. It’s not a good idea and it’s easy enough to blame it on the hallucinations, which he promptly does as soon as he pulls away from the admittedly nice kiss. It’s not the best kiss he’s ever had, but it is laced with _feeling_ and if he weren’t so desperate to deny himself anything good that happened to him, he’d most certainly dub it as one of the best.

It’s just _right_ , you see? Stiles’ lips are soft, if a bit chapped, but the sensation doesn’t bother him, merely makes it feel more real. He’s not too eager and he isn’t forcing his tongue down Derek’s throat, which is also a plus. He’s attentive and careful as though he is expecting Derek to run at any moment, which derived from his track record isn’t exactly a surprising notion. Except his track record would suggest Stiles is about to murder a lot of people or worse, _die_ , but that is simply a ridiculous notion.

For a moment or two he pulls Stiles closer, threading his fingers into damp, soon to be wet hair and just lets himself enjoy it for once in his life. Stiles gives as good as he gets and Derek is sort of pleased he doesn’t feel the need to slight him in any way. As much as they go out of their way to be assholes to one another, this seems to be a whole other situation. The sniping, however, is something he misses even in the duration of such a short period. He pulls away, a little hazy around the edges, but manages to keep his cool.

“This…” he trails off, coughing awkwardly, despite his fingers still twisted in Stiles’ incredibly soft hair. “It was the hallucinations, right?” He asks, despite being ninety percent sure he is in the wrong. It’s just easier to say it than admit you have the hots for the sheriff's son… the sheriff who could actually shoot you with real bullets. The fact that those would do little harm are besides the point.

Stiles, stares at him, seemingly just as caught off guard as Derek feels and nods along to his words. “Hallucinations, yes, of course.” Despite his words, he stays where he is, seemingly needing some time to gather himself. The strong fingers on his neck aren’t helping his state of denial one bit. Instead, he feels a sudden urge to lean in and kiss him again and again, until it feels like real life.

He doesn’t, though. Instead he gently detangles the both of them and leads them back to the Jeep with a hand on Stiles’ back. They don’t speak for a while and when they’re safely inside the car again they avoid each other's’ gaze for at least five minutes.

Eventually, when the silence starts to concern Stiles in one way or the other he shifts in his seat and turns on the engine.

“You alright to drive?” Derek asks, because he does worry, despite everything.

“I’m fine. I never want to do this again, though.” Stiles admits and glances at him, just as Derek is inspecting his claws. “Put those away, it’s nauseating.” He snaps and Derek cannot help but be a little smug about having pissed him off, if even just a little bit. He’s always enjoyed the sniping and he is glad it is not gone, despite the ill advised kiss they both seem so willing to ignore. If Derek’s honest with himself, he knows it hadn’t been the hallucinations, though they had played their part in it. There is just something about Stiles that makes him relate to him so easily. Derek wishes he had that closeness, despite how bad of an idea it is.

“I am never doing this again. Can’t we have someone less fucked up to take care of such things the next time?” Derek asks, and it’s more than he would say most days as admitting he has issues has never been his goal. After all, he’s put a lot of effort into keeping that hidden from others despite how easily Stiles can see through him. Perhaps it’s _because_ he can do so.

“Yup. I’m sending Scott next time. He’s the alpha, after all.” There’s a certain mocking edge to his voice as though Derek’s supposed to be offended by the concept, but he doesn’t care anymore. He’s over being obsessed with power. He just wants a simple life, a chance to be happy for once. He’s not even upset.

Derek doesn’t bother hiding his grin, he glances at Stiles who is conveniently staring at him again instead of the road. “I am sure he can handle a few responsibilities.”

To his surprise, Stiles turns back to staring at the road and tucks his chin. “Better him than us, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, figuring they’ve gone way beyond denial at this point.


End file.
